Forgive me my antiquity

I had a stick of gum for dinner last night fighting back or biting down to halt the dams behind my eyes for bursting first in many months but then... it isn't often one has a week like this And these are the nights we thought we'd left in high school The dry mouthed cigarette sips gin stink of liquor broken now and open to abuse it's so hard to always hide baby and I've grown too old or tired to try to be for you that soldier who doesn't break when you bend him, doesn't bruise when you beat him, doesn't wait for you for hours honey harrowed now but hoping maybe somewhere there's a reason why you aren't where you said you would be oh baby baby baby ... Am I to you so commonplace? Ours is a generation that's forgotten forehead goodnight kisses or holding hands on trains because we like it But most of all we are a breed that has forgotten conversation We're all small-talk segways and witty quips that somehow always lead to fumblings with buttons breathing heavily deliberately hot and gripping slipping squeezing salt balloons and moaning - we might as well be fucking ourselves So forgive me my antiquity I just try too hard to believe in people.

Bomb the Blogosphere,
Mike